Tag, You're It
The Spirit of Ecstasy stayed in the rear-view mirror of my Camry. All I could see of the car on my tail was the curve of the black fender and that hood ornament. If whoever was at the wheel felt like I was holding them back, why didn’t they pass me instead of dogging my bumper? At first, I sped up, but they stayed right on my tail, so I slowed down and even eased toward the shoulder, hoping they’d get the message and go around me. But they didn’t.
The sun glared off the windshield of the car in back, so I couldn’t see who was driving. Was it a man or a woman? Young or old? The way the car crept forward to within inches of the back of my car made me think it was a young, impatient man behind the wheel. But why didn’t he pass?
I checked my speed when I passed a speed limit sign. I was going a couple of miles over the posted limit, but not too far over. Last Thanksgiving, I’d gotten pulled over for speeding but only got a warning. That made me careful about my speed. If I got stopped again, it would mean a ticket for sure. I couldn’t afford a ticket. Last month I had to get new tires, which really cut into my budget and nearly wiped out my emergency funds.
Maybe if I slowed down, almost stopped, maybe then the luxury car would go around me. I let up on the accelerator, and my car slowed down. I watched in the rear-view mirror to see what he would do. Beyond all odds, he slowed down too, staying right behind me, coming even closer. I felt the smallest tap on the rear bumper as if the Rolls Royce had touched the back of my car.
I put on the brakes and stopped dead in the middle of the road, slipping the gear lever into Park. Checking to make sure the doors were locked, I got on the phone and dialed 9-1-1 telling the operator where I was and what was going on. He promised to send a sheriff’s deputy to my location immediately. I hung up the phone and put it back in the holder when I felt my car slide forward. He was pushing me. Instead of just pulling out and going around, the lunatic in the car behind me was pushing me. I hadn’t expected that. I thought he’d give up and go around, but no, he had to keep playing whatever game he was playing with me. I felt like a mouse pestered by a determined cat.
“Come on, come on, deputy, get here fast.” As soon as I said the words, I heard the far-off sound of a siren. The squad car came screaming up behind the two of us, lights flashing and siren wailing. He swung around the two of us, blocking the right-hand traffic lane, and angled his car in front of mine to prevent the Rolls from driving off. Except that the deputy was a woman. She exited her vehicle and made her way towards me, one hand on her sidearm. Her nametag read Felix.
I rolled down my window when she stopped next to me.
“What seems to be the problem?” she asked.
I carefully told her what had been going on for the last five miles. That the Rolls had come up behind me and stayed behind me, never passing, not even going around when I stopped in the middle of the road. “He even pushed my car with his bumper, sliding my tires along the road.”
She shook her head, then paced back to the car touching mine. “Roll down the window,” she ordered the driver. Nothing happened. She raised her voice. “I said, Open the window, sir.”
Our cars were so close to each other that I could hear everything said. I watched in the side-view mirror to see what was going on. The driver’s side window lowered, and a male voice said, “Is there a problem, officer?” I heard the slur of his words and saw the deputy step back from the fumes. “We were just playing a li’l game.”
“The highway isn’t a place for games. Turn the engine off and step out of the car, sir,” the deputy said.
“Do you know who I am?” he shouted.
“Yes, Councilman Traeger, I do. Please get out of the car. I need to administer a field sobriety test.” Deputy Felix backed away from the car. “Put down the gun, sir.” I saw her reach for her sidearm and unholster it. Taking a shooter’s stance, she barked, “Out of the car. Now.”
I hunched down in my seat, hoping to stay out of the way of any flying bullets. I could still see the scene behind me in the mirror.
Traeger raised his hands. “Take it easy. I’m putting the pistol down now and I’ll get out of the car. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
She holstered her weapon when she was certain both of his hands were off the gun, and grasped his wrist as he exited the Rolls. Her handcuffs were off her belt and clipped onto his wrists almost before he stood up out of the car.
“Wait, wait. You don’t need to cuff me. I was just playing with you. You know, like in the movies.” He swayed and tried to look over his shoulder at her.
“Pointing a gun at a deputy isn’t a game, sir. You’re going to take a ride to jail with me.” While she talked, she walked him around to the rear door of the squad car and put him in the back seat. He started hollering and swearing at her, but she ignored him. “I’m sorry, ma’am, he gets like this sometimes,” the deputy said, coming up alongside my car. “Let me take your statement, and then I’ll move the squad car so you can be on your way.”
“What about the Rolls? You won’t leave it in the middle of the road, will you?”
She grinned. “No, I’ll have it towed to the impound lot. It’ll cost him a pretty penny to ransom it. Now, tell me again what happened.” She took careful notes as I spoke, then she thanked me and moved her vehicle so I could drive away.
I watched in my rearview mirror as I left the scene. She parked the Rolls on the side of the road, then got into her squad car. I wondered how often the councilman got liquored up and drove around the county terrorizing people, playing his little game of highway tag in his big expensive car.
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Clever. It made me laugh.